Broken Things to Mend

by Karey White

  “I’m pregnant.” Celia watched for Nancy’s face to express horror or disgust, but it remained impassive. She didn’t even look surprised. “I’m eighteen weeks along.”

  Nancy didn’t say anything, just gave the slightest bob of her head, so Celia continued, tearing down the wall she had been hiding behind brick by brick, sentence by sentence. “My last foster family were the Javorseks. I turned eighteen while I lived there, and technically they could have kicked me out, but they let me stay as long as I paid them rent and helped with the housework. I lived there for almost a year after I graduated from high school. About a year ago, I met a girl at work—we both waited tables at Applebee’s—and she wanted to get an apartment. Once I did the math, I realized I could share a little apartment for less than I was paying the Javorseks, so we moved in together.

  “It turned out to be a mistake. I didn’t know she used drugs and that she had friends that would come over to party all the time. Sometimes they stayed for days, but they never helped pay the bills. I asked the Javorseks if I could move back in, but they had already signed up for another foster child and if I was living there, they wouldn’t qualify. Something about too many people in the house or an unrelated adult living there. Cassidy—that was my roommate—tried to get me to come have fun with them, but it reminded me of the mess my mom had made with her life, so I spent most of my time in my bedroom. Cassidy and her friends didn’t trust me because I didn’t party with them. At first they made fun of me, but then they ignored me.”

  Celia twisted the fringe on the pillow. She hadn’t ever told the details of that night and she wasn’t sure she wanted to now.

  Seconds passed as she tried to choose her words, but she couldn’t find a way to describe the ugliness she had endured. Finally Nancy softly spoke. “So the father is from Chicago?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does he know you’re pregnant?”

  “No. And he never will. I don’t think he even knows my name. I was just Cassidy’s boring roommate. I’m not even sure he’d remember what he did to me. He was tripping pretty hard.”

  Nancy slid closer to Celia, and although she didn’t touch her, the gesture felt like a gift of compassion and clemency. “Do you know his name?”

  “His name is Damien. I don’t know his last name.”

  Nancy sighed. “Is that when you left?”

  “I was scared. He was a big guy and I was afraid he’d do it again. So when he left, I packed my things and never went back.”

  “And you took a bus to Sisters all by yourself.”

  “That wasn’t nearly as scary as staying and seeing him again.”

  Nancy covered her face hands with her hands. “Oh, Celia. I’m so sorry.”

  Celia forced a half-hearted laugh. “You’re not the one who should be sorry. You’ve been so kind to me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was going to tell Silas before... you know. But then this morning, while I was working in the garden, I felt the baby move, and I couldn’t keep it to myself.”

  Nancy reached for Celia and pulled her into a hug. Celia felt Nancy’s damp cheek against her temple and knew Nancy was crying.

  The bell on the front door of the gallery rang as Celia switched off the lights in the back room.

  “We’re about to close, so if— Oh... hi.” Silas stood inside the door. He looked different. He looked leaner and had at least a month’s growth of beard.

  Celia took a deep breath and clenched her hands into fists to ground her. He looked good, and it was hard not to feel excitement that he was here. But it was too late for that. Silas had left without a word and the confusion and disappointment had left her shaken and exhausted. She couldn’t deal with that right now. This wasn’t the time for romance and dating. She needed to put the baby first.

  “Did you get home today?” She did her best to keep her voice casual.

  “This m-morning.” He stayed by the door, and Celia was struck by the reversal in his confidence. A few weeks ago he had been sure of himself around her. Now he seemed tentative. The change made Celia sad.

  “I’ll bet Nancy was relieved to have you back in one piece.”

  “Yeah. She said if I sign up again b-before next summer, she’ll disown m-me.”

  “She’s been worried about you.”

  Celia dragged her gaze away from Silas and busied herself straightening up the counter.

  “Can I walk you home?”

  “That’s okay. I’ve got to straighten up a bit and I want to vacuum so it’s clean for Ellis in the morning.” She didn’t tell Silas she had done all of this less than an hour ago.

  “I can wait. I’ll vacuum for you.” Silas headed to the closet by the office where the cleaning supplies were kept.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I don’t m-mind.”

  The floor didn’t need vacuumed, but if she admitted that, she’d have to admit she wanted to avoid him, so while Silas vacuumed, Celia pulled out a painting and hung it in the empty space where she had sold a small landscape earlier in the day. It was hard not to watch Silas. He looked good, and her mind wandered to the last time she had seen him in the gallery, and the easy affection they had shared.

  She didn’t let her mind remain there long. It was too disappointing. Instead, she dredged up the memory of her walking home from church and breaking into a run when she saw Silas in his Jeep. She reminded herself that he had turned away from her and had never tried to reach her during the past nineteen days. That was the memory she needed to keep front and center so she wouldn’t make the mistake of falling into his pale blue eyes and helpful ways. She was going to have a baby and that needed to be her focus. She didn’t have the time or the emotional stability for a roller coaster relationship.

  Silas put the vacuum cleaner away and stood by the counter, his hands in his pockets. “Is there anything else you need to do?”

  “No. I guess I’m ready to go.”

  Celia turned off all but one light and locked the door behind them. They walked more than a block before Celia finally spoke. “Did you get the fire put out?”

  “Yes. It was a b-big one. Almost took out a little town called Skykomish.”

  “I’ll bet they appreciated your help.” She meant it, but realized it might have sounded sarcastic. “I mean, all of you that were there.”

  “C-C-Celia, I should have come to see you b-before I left.”

  Silas’s stuttering filled Celia with sorrow, and she would have tried to put him at ease, but she wasn’t sure how to do that while keeping a safe distance.

  “I’m sure it was pretty hectic, getting home and leaving so soon.”

  The conversation lagged again.

  “They needed volunteers, b-but I still should have said goodbye.”

  Celia shrugged. “Or hello.”

  Silas nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Celia gave him a regretful smile. “You know, I’ve got a lot going on right now, and I’m not in a very good place to be dating anyway.”

  Silas looked stunned for a moment, but recovered quickly. “Oh. I thought—”

  “I’m going to have a baby.” Silas stopped walking and Celia turned to face him.

  “I know. Nancy told me.”

  Celia couldn’t read his expression so she continued. “I wanted to tell you, but at first I was afraid. And then you left. And then you left again and I didn’t have a chance.”

  “I shouldn’t have l-l-left l-l-like that. I’m s-s-sorry.” Now he was stuttering on sounds she’d never heard him trip on. She looked at his feet, afraid if she looked in his eyes, she’d lose her resolve.

  “My whole life has been full of people leaving me.”

  “I’m not that kind of m-man.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “I knew there were things you weren’t telling m-me and I guess I freaked out.”

  Celia and Silas started walking again, slowly. They were nearly home when Celia said, “I should have
told you sooner.”

  “M-maybe we can, you know...”

  Celia looked up at Silas. She hadn’t noticed his tired eyes. She put her hand on Silas’s arm to soften her words. “Silas, you should go home and get some rest. Let’s talk later.”

  If he would have taken her in his arms, she’d have burrowed in and stayed there forever, but he nodded and spoke slowly and carefully. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Silas climbed the ladder to the second-story windows of the Sisters Brewhouse, and reached down for the quilt Nancy was handing him. For the last couple of years Silas had pitched in to help his aunt and about a hundred other volunteers set up for the annual quilt show.

  “I love this one.” Nancy held up the beautiful art quilt that had been sent from New Zealand. Every year she looked forward to the variety of quilts from around the world, especially the ones that paid tribute to the beauty she sometimes took for granted. The quilt painstakingly depicted Smith Rock set against a colorful sunset. “I wish this one was for sale.”

  When the quilt was secure, Silas climbed down. He had barely spoken during the three hours he and Nancy had been hanging quilts, and he hadn’t smiled once.

  “Silas, you’ve got to snap out of this.”

  “She hardly talks to me.”

  “That’s because you’re not listening to her. She doesn’t want a boyfriend right now and you keep asking her out on dates.”

  “Nothing b-big. Just movies or out to eat.” Silas had been home from Washington almost a month, and although Nancy was impressed with his determination, she worried he was driving Celia away.

  Nancy looked at him like he was a silly child. “Those are dates.”

  “I wish you’d never told me.”

  Nancy sighed. How different would Silas and Celia’s relationship be if Nancy had minded her own business? She tried to reassure herself that she had acted out of love and concern for her nephew, but she couldn’t completely convince herself that there hadn’t been a little bit of meddling old woman involved. “So do I. I didn’t know she was planning to tell you, and I didn’t want her to try to trick you. I was wrong and I’m sorry. But maybe it was for the best.”

  Silas looked disgusted. “It wasn’t for the b-best.” He turned away. “I like her. A lot. I don’t care if she’s p-pregnant. She’s still Celia.” His voice got softer. “And I want her back.”

  “I know you do. And she might like you back, but she’s got a lot to work out, and she needs us to let her do that.” When Silas began to walk away, Nancy caught his arm. “Be her friend. That’s what she needs.”

  “Yeah, but I wanted to be m-more than friends.”

  “Right now it isn’t about you. It’s not even about Celia. It’s about that baby, and we need to be her friends and support her. So stop being moody and stop asking her on dates. Maybe after she has the baby, she’ll be ready to date again, and if you haven’t scared her off, maybe she’ll even go out with you.”

  Nancy smiled and gave Silas a maternal side hug.

  “How can I be her friend if she’s avoiding m-me?”

  “Oh, Silas. You’re a smart boy. I’m sure you can figure that out how to be her friend.”

  Most of Main Street and the two streets that ran parallel to it were closed off, and thousands of people milled about admiring quilts, eating good food, and socializing. Under tents at the park and in The Stitchin’ Station’s parking lot, teachers taught interested visitors about quilting, fabric selection, and the latest tools of the trade.

  Celia paused to admire a cluster of quilts hanging from branches. The display, “A Handmade Forest,” featured long, thin quilts that interpreted trees. One had pink, three-dimensional flowers and reminded Celia of dogwood trees she’d seen as a child.

  “Hey, Celia.” Lacy practically bumped into Celia before she realized who it was.

  “Hi. Out enjoying the show?”

  “I come every year. Looking at all this gorgeous handiwork is the closest I’ll ever get to being crafty.”

  “You live here and you don’t quilt?”

  Lacy waved her off. “I know. There’s probably a law against it. Have you taken up our community pastime?”

  “I don’t know how good I am, but I’ve made three quilt blocks.” Celia was being modest. Nancy had said Celia’s stitching looked better than some of the women who had been coming to The Stitchin’ Station classes for years.

  “You’re already ahead of me. Didn’t you have an ultrasound while I was on vacation?”

  “I did.”

  “And?” Lacy stretched out the word and rubbed her hands together excitedly.

  “Didn’t Dr. Vernon tell you?”

  “No.” Lacy put on her best innocent voice.

  Celia stepped around a quilt to get a look at the back. “It’s a boy.”

  “Oh.” Lacy made the word three sing-song syllables. “How exciting.” They moved together down the row of quilts, stopping to admire them as they talked.

  “Dr. Vernon called him ‘the little thinker.’ Said it looks like he’ll be an Einstein or something.”

  “That’ll be a perk when it’s time to do his homework.” Lacy stopped, and her voice became serious. “Oh. Sorry. Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

  Celia lifted a bright orange and green quilt and examined the intricate stitching. “I’m going to find a family for him.”

  Lacy gently rested her hand on Celia’s arm. “I’m sure it’s such a hard thing.” Celia nodded. “If I can do anything for you, let me know. I mean, I’m great at listening, so if you need to talk...” Her uncomfortable laugh made Celia smile a little. It was hard to believe this was the same woman who had been unfriendly and difficult at her first doctor’s appointment.

  “Thank you. I want him to have a happy life and a good dad. I can’t give him that.”

  “It’s such an unselfish thing to do.”

  Celia didn’t want to talk about unselfishness or hard things or the shortcomings of her own life. “It’s all so overwhelming. Sometimes the only way I can get through it is to not think about it, but thank you.” Eager to change the subject, she moved to the next quilt. “I can’t even believe the work in some of these.”

  Celia was thankful when Lacy welcomed the new subject. “I know. Who would even think about making an entire quilt of dogs?”

  Nancy still slept when Celia quietly slipped out to walk to church. Saturday had been a busy day for Nancy and she would be putting in many more hours as the quilt show wrapped up tonight, so she deserved to sleep in.

  Celia was surprised how many people were already out, probably to beat the elevated temperatures that had been forecast. Despite the early hour, the cool night air had already surrendered to a stifling heat, and she welcomed the air-conditioned chapel. Some of the out-of-town guests must have decided to attend church, because the pews were nearly full, and it was still five minutes until the services were to begin.

  Celia smiled at a few of the people she had met in the last few months as she chose a seat. She was grateful for the friendly faces. She had wondered how people would react to her when she began to show. Would they judge her and look at her with disgust? She needn’t have worried. Whether it was the minister’s mindfulness or God’s kindness, she wasn’t sure, but the last time she had attended services, the sermon had been on not judging others.

  “Some of our sins and weaknesses are obvious to those around us, and it’s easy to point fingers,” the minister had said. “But for many of us, we carry our sins and burdens privately, secretly. There’s only one thing that makes the visible sin worse than the secret sin, and that is that it sometimes causes others to give in to the temptation to point and scrutinize and judge. Let’s each worry about ourselves. And when it comes to the misdeeds of others, let us simply do as the scriptures tell us. Love our neighbor. Serve each other. Forgive. Let’s leave the judgments to God.”

  Celia had been grateful for the message.

  Now, more than ev
er, she needed the peace she felt when she walked through the doors of the church. Ever since her ultrasound, she had felt like a woman on a medieval torture rack, painfully pulled and stretched in different directions. From the time she had discovered she was pregnant, she had known she would give the baby to a family who could provide a better life. The inconvenience and discomfort of her condition were difficult, but they would end, and she would get back to being the person she had been before this had happened to her.

  Then she had felt the first flutter of life inside her, and days later, she had seen the tiny boy on the screen, his heart beating, his hand on his chin, as if he were thinking, pondering what the future would hold for him.

  And she loved him. For the first time, she realized that even after he was gone from her life, she would never be the same. There would always be a piece of her heart that belonged to him. Celia thought of herself as a fighter. She had survived the uppercut of her father’s abandonment and the left hook of her mother’s neglect. She’d been knocked down time after time, but this might be too much. Would giving up this baby be the sucker punch that put her down for the count? Would she ever truly recover?

  The stained glass depiction of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane blurred, and Celia blinked hard, clearing her vision. The organist stretched out the last note of the prelude, and as the minister stood to welcome the congregation, Silas slipped in and sat beside Celia. He gave her a quick smile then focused his attention to the front of the chapel.

  Silas hadn’t joined her at church since before he’d gone firefighting, and Celia wondered about his motives. He had been asking her out ever since he had returned from Washington, and while it had been flattering at first, she was determined to keep him at arm’s length. Circumstances outside her control had inflicted too much pain on her heart already. She didn’t need to willingly subject it to more.

  Celia recited in her mind the way she would refuse an invitation to get lunch or go for a drive, something polite but firm. Halfway through the service, she realized she was thinking more about how to handle her rejection of Silas than she was of the spiritual message being shared. She focused on the man standing in front instead of the man sitting beside her.